Throughout the bank, the woman's screaming alerted everyone to her presence. Bookkeepers, people on break, and even a technician who was hard at work re-booting the security system for the night. The panic that polluted the front lobby quickly spread throughout the building, but out of all the staff, one man was unaffected. It wasn't bravery or anything heroic like that. He was just the type to work with his headphones cranked to [i]maximum[/i] at the risk of losing his job. An intern with little to no interest and saving face, condemned to mountains of paperwork on a daily basis. By the time the woman was at the safe, he was casually strolling through the halls while his wireless earbuds pumped out over 150 decibels of techno music.

	He didn't spot the gun in the robber's hand when they crossed paths. The man had his eyes half closed and bobbed his head to the beat with a stack of papers in his hands. When he noticed the black mask though, his stroll slowed to a stop, and he started backing away quietly until he was behind the nearest corner. Maybe she hadn't noticed him. Maybe the rustling of his papers were overshadowed by the rustling of the banknotes. Maybe everything could still be [i]cool.[/i]

	[i]"Of all the rotten..."[/i]

	Of course it wouldn't be [i]cool.[/i] This was a disaster. Two o'clock, only four more hours before the bank would close for the night. Just four more hours of this humiliating gruntwork, and everything would have been fine. The security system would be easy picking with what he lifted from the technician, everyone else would have gone home for the night, and the safe would have been left totally unguarded. But no. Nothing was ever that easy. Instead a quiet job, everything was bound to go to shit, all because some [i]amateur[/i] was eager to get the attention of every cop in the city.

	 The man knelt down and placed his documents on the floor. She had her right hand pointed forward. Probably a gun. Worst case scenario, something even [i]more dangerous.[/i] He wasn't equipped for this sort of asinine contingency. Who the hell could prepare for the one-in-a-million chance that some other asshole would decide to rob your mark on the same day?

	Without the tools necessary, the man knelt in place and racked his brain for an answer - [i]any answer at all[/i] - for this terribly backwards afternoon.